Behind Enemy Eyes
by Queen Mafalda
Summary: She came to me in my dreams, as she so often did, dressed in her day robes, a somber smile on her face. I could almost feel her lean in, looking admonishingly at my cigar, tossing it aside as she placed the most delicate of kisses on my temple.


**AN**: Set three years after the war. Predominantly D/Hr, you will still see bits of the canon pairings: R/Hr and H/G.

**.**

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns.

**.**

**.**

So many things had changed, and in so little time. It was hard to fathom how exactly the world revolved. I felt that reality had become beyond my grasp, that I couldn't ever quite make out what it really meant to be alive.

I stooped down, placing a fresh bouquet of yellow roses on her grave. It wasn't the only one, but stood brightly amongst the others who had already endured a day's worth of sunlight. It had been three years, three years since that fateful night. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I forced them back down. I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. After all this time the thought of her death still hit me like a torrent. I could only imagine what Potter and Weasley had been going through, having known her for so long. Weasley had always been in love with her, and I suspected Potter too felt something towards his bushy-haired companion. Who wouldn't? She was the embodiment of absolute delight.

I still remember running into her at the Ministry only months after the war. She had kept her cool despite our horrific history. I called her Granger and she called me Malfoy. We were off to a fresh start. I still couldn't quite stand the sight of her. She was everything I had grown to hate. Yet I still remember how a month into my career as an Auror, I saw her hurt at a raid. The memory of fresh blood gushing out of her arm still remains crystal clear in my mind. It was at that moment, I realized, the very blood that ran through her veins ran through mine. She was no more a mudblood than I was. Blood purity meant nothing when humanity and intelligence were at stake. And that reality all came crashing down on me in the middle of a bloody massacre.

That had been three years ago. Now she was gone, she had left us all to sulk in misery. It would never be the same. Soon after the war's end, I had met Astoria, sister of my classmate Daphne Greengrass. I noticed soon into our marriage that Astoria would always be more of a lifelong friend than a soul mate. She arrived at that same realization too, for only months after our first anniversary, our marriage was annulled and Scorpius was placed into our shared custody. To this day we still remain friends; we live in the same neighborhood even attend many of the same events. She remarried and I somehow managed to fall in love with the suddenly tolerable know-it-all, Hermione Granger. Hermione though, never lived to know the day.

Night and day I regretted not telling her my true feelings; I was a coward, a bloody fool. She had deserved to know all along; perhaps my proclamation of love would have stopped her from marrying Weasley. But in the end the redhead got what he had always dreamed of, and I was pushed into the shadows. I couldn't even come to imagine what her children would be going through, both so young, so naive. Hugo Weasley had been in infant in Ron's arms at her funeral, Rose a turbulent toddler who clung helplessly to Potter's leg as she screamed for her mother's return. It was at Hermione's memorial service that I truly understood what it meant to be in a close-knit family.

Upon her death, the Potter's and Weasley kin took it upon themselves to raise the two children with all the love in the world. My heart ached at the thought, despite having both my parents throughout the duration of my childhood; I had never felt such affection. I learned never to mock the Weasley's again. Despite their initial lack of monetary prosperity, they proved supreme amongst all. Pureblood tyrants groveled at the feet of the light upon the end of the war. Blood supremacy was no more, Voldemort perished in the ashes, and with him his harem of deceitful followers.

I couldn't help it. A lone tear slipped down the side of my face and then with it a flood of others followed suit. My elegant demeanor quickly crumbled as I soon found myself keeled over, kneeling at her grave. With her death, my world fell apart. My mind began to hate the word love for it despised how much my heart ached for it day and night. It was always like this when I thought of the past. Memories of the war had scarred my being for all of eternity.

I stared longingly at her tombstone, pleading for it to bring her back. It of course, was in vain.

**Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley (1979-2001)**

**Faithful Friend. Loving Mother. Forever Cherished.**

**Order of Merlin: First Class**

Reading those words simply brought the memories rushing back. I bit back the choking feeling accumulating at the base of my throat. Gathering my cloak I rushed away from her grave. It was all just too much. I found an apparition point, looking to and fro for any signs of life and apparated back into my estate. Scorpius was with his mother and I found the house to be eerily quiet and just as I had left it. I stepped onto the front patio, a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. It was times like these that I wished I could just drown myself in something strong and forgetful, to rid myself of this everlasting misery.

Both emotionally and physically exhausted I found myself slowly nodding off. The lit cigar balanced precariously over my glass of unfinished scotch. She came to me in my dreams, as she so often did, dressed in her day robes, a somber smile on her face. I could almost feel her lean in, looking admonishingly at my cigar, tossing it to the side as she placed the most delicate of kisses on my temple. I smiled to myself as I slept on, I missed her so much.

I woke up after what seemed to be hours. The sun had fully set and the house was enshrouded in the darkness of the night. Setting my glass down, I walked into the washroom in an effort to splash my face with some water. I stared wearily at my reflection, my eyes trying to refocus under the stark light. I gasped, jerking my head suddenly to the side and closer towards the mirror.

There, to the right of my eyebrow, glimmered a faint pink lipstick mark.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**AN: **So, what do you think? Please Review!


End file.
